Almost There
by aisperoEli
Summary: The hardest part during the first few weeks at college.


The hardest part for Sam when he first showed up at Stanford wasn't navigating the campus. It wasn't finding his dorm, or dealing with a new roommate. He handled the crowded halls with ease and precision, as well as managing to get a library card with his real name before most kids even thought about books.

He had a slight difficulty determining which classes to apply for and then attempting to locate obscure text books on the subjects, even in the campus bookstore, seemed harder than it should but Sam still managed it as if he had been doing it all his life. Things got almost tricky when Sam somehow managed to unload his duffle onto his new bed, wrinkled plaid shirts flying, worn and frayed band cloth falling, books thudding onto the soft, naked mattress below, which caught his roommate's eye. A few suspicious looks crossed the California boy's features as Sam folded his shirts into his dresser. He made sure to hide the few knives wrapped in his few boxers as discreetly as possible.

"Hey, man… Are your parents going to show up later with the rest of your shit or what?" The question hung in the air. Sam's muscles contracted as he glanced over at the four boxes and three suitcases on the other side of the room. He thought about lying, or ignoring the kid, but for some reason he said the truth. "No, dude… this is all I have."

The hard part came after the hum and electricity of the first day wore down. The halls started to soften to a slight murmur instead of a dull roar. The lights flickered naturally in the darkness. Sam found himself lying on top of his naked mattress with his jacket as his pillow, knife tucked underneath, staring up at a blank white ceiling. His hands slipped behind his head as his mind ghosted over a few topics. Breath was slack and calm and he smiled at some loose memory. "Hey De-" He stopped himself, the thought lost in his throat, a feeling pooling in his gut that felt foreign in his body. He looked over at the bed across the small room. His roommate half hung off his bed, slight snores came from his open mouth. Sam couldn't help but notice the clothes on the floor, the comforter and sheets on the bed, and an odd scent in the air that reminded Sam of an old waitress back somewhere between Omaha and Kansas City who burnt his coffee and had lipstick on her teeth.

The hard part was when Sam finally managed to close his eyes and found himself lost. The world was too new, the air too stale, the bed too soft, and his brother wasn't here. The breathing pattern of the person across the room was too fast, too deep, too rough, too ugly. The smell in the air that hung around every corner wasn't thick whiskey on a cool night, it wasn't worn leather and grease, it wasn't cheap motel shampoo and graveyard dirt. The person across the room wasn't his brother.

It got harder when he couldn't sleep, days even after that first night. Sam would haze through finding his classes, researching his class work, going over a provided syllabus. Classes didn't start for another week, but as the campus filled with more and more students, Sam continued to feel like an outsider. The hardest part was when he couldn't remember the smell of Dean after a hunt, when they had finished the salt and burn and his brother would pull him in for a hug, smile wide. He couldn't remember the sound of Dean's voice calling out to him in any setting. But as he closed his eyes and danced through memories, Dean's eyes were all he could see. Green crashing ocean waves, rolling fields of spring grass, with a soft strike of stabbing hazel to bring him back to earth, down to reality. He was alone.

He'd wanted to be away from the family business from the first moment he sat across from his brother, IVs and tubes sticking out of his body, bandages over usually powerful frame. His brother looked at him with an unfamiliar gaze and it was then that Sam knew he wanted it too. Deep down… past all of the family loyalty and pain.

Sam didn't know how to handle the normalcy now that he had it. He liked the stability but the hard part was that his mind wouldn't stop. The hard part was somewhere between here and the east coast.

It all changed at a party, late, the night before classes started. Sam leaned against the wall, watching classmates yell with classmates and alcohol chase alcohol. His eye scanned the room and he turned to leave, making his way down the hall, back to his still naked bed. A crash of gold knocked him into the hall and a giggling mess disentangled themselves from his limbs. Apologies fell out of a delicate mouth and a girl straightened out from a slurred mess. "I'm so, so, sorry!" She helped pull him up as he watched her eyes scan over him. "It's fine, I was heading out anyways." Sam small sheepish grin and smiled softly. The lips of that delicate mouth twitched upwards, her eyes never leaving his. "Why don't I walk you?"

He wasn't surprised when an hour and a thick conversation later they fell onto his empty bed, mouth on mouth, hands on skin, hair flowing. He pressed her into the mattress, her moans soft on his ear, her nails pressing into his back. Her mouth fit perfectly on his.

He slept that night with an arm around her thin waist; nose nestled in her curly hair. Honey and sunshine, the scent of watermelon and fresh linen, and the soft, smooth, even breath of the girl before him.


End file.
